Twilight
by VictoriAwe
Summary: My version of how Twilight should have been... not differing from the plot, just trying to make the writing and characters slightly more substantial. R&R.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters

It isn't as if Bella has nothing to do; in fact, she has a long and rather arduous list of things that should be getting done. Instead, she is sitting on her bed, _not doing anything _because general laziness and vegetation is preferable to the other alternatives: saying good-bye to her mother, facing Phil, or cleaning up the ashes of the ceremonial burning of The Last Pair Of Shorts.

It isn't that she's sad; if anything, she's some frustrating mixture of hurt and shocked that her mother agreed to the arrangement so quickly. Not just a see-you-later, but a separation. It was essentially easy to spend weeks away from her family at a time during those sweltering summer camp days, all sticky and active and fun.

And yet now, Bella's most determined attempts to steer clear from her mother are about as doable as gouging out her eyeballs with sporks. The spiky kind.

Perhaps her mother is selfish; gullible, depending which side your on. The truth stands that Bella's "gift" to her wasn't exactly done out of kindness, and it hasn't ever been in her nature to please anybody. There's a foreign ache inside her that craves validity and to _not think _about it.

There was, in short, no other solution other than removing herself, and whether the logic is reasonable or not doesn't concern her. Decision making was always the hardest part for her: the stress and aggravation that accompanies choice hardly seems worth the struggle. When presented with too many options, she can only blame herself for choosing the wrong one. However, once a decision has been reached, she finds the grouching and moaning about the injustices of her surroundings fully within her right.

Cold weather is unpleasant.

She sits up straight, suddenly overwhelmed and upset. With a swift brusqueness, she grabs another tank top, and makes to throw it into the garbage.

"Bella," Renee says pleadingly, "come on. Don't."

"Oh. _Don't?" _She knows her voice sounds demanding and contemptuous, but she can't muster up enough sympathy to stop. Despite the brown turtleneck, she feels stupid and bare.

"Now," Renee gives her an incredulous look, one that has a practiced look of inexperience, as if she is innocuous and a victim. "You don't want to throw away all of this... I mean -- well -- you'll be back, Bells. It's not like you weren't planning on coming back?" It's a question.

"Don't be stupid," Bella mutters. "I'm going to Forks. I'm going to Washington and you're going _wherever _the hell -- you could -- I'll write you. That's a difference." Renee seems to deem the answer acceptable; Bella feels the curious sensation of being overpowered, as if waves of incoherency and uncertainty are splashing and drowning her brain.

"Bella?"

"What?"

Ring encrusted hands crawl to the edge of the lone chair in the room. Renee hoists herself up, and turns to Bella.

"Do you think you could help me with this clasp?" Something glittering emerges from her pocket; she takes it out, examines in from three angles, and finally dangles it in front of Bella.

"_What_?"

"On my neck, Bella. It's a locket... for when you're gone." False enthusiasm traces Renee's tone.

She secures it on her mother's neck. The means don't quite justify the ends, but she understands her mom.

"Thanks, Bells!"

"You're welcome." She turns and waits in the car.

...

Charlie leans in close over the steering wheel, a last futile attempt to see outside the car without the aid of his windshield wipers. They were just out of the parking lot before the drizzle set in, and he wasn't quite ready to admit to myopic eyes. Now, a storm is drumming dangerous beats against the car, and thunder swells brilliantly, surrounding them in a wet orchestra of danger.

He hopes Bella brought a more substantial coat.

"Bella? Is this -- I mean -- this isn't, _weird_, is it?" She turns and sees a staggering look of tumult and uncertainty. A lost little boy, thrust into a situation he can't understand, and doesn't really want to.

"No!"

Charlie never lies. Between working for the police, and his solo living arrangements, the concept of untruths and half-facts have escaped and settled into distant times. Fabrications follow felons, not father-daughter discourses.

"Ah, well... yeah. I mean, it isn't the question that matters anyway."

Bella admits there are far more snarled fundamentals to the problem, but thinking about them hasn't even been her strong point. She knows it's the answer that secretly counts, the actions that intertwine themselves into the determiners: strange versus habitual; abnormal versus regulation. When it comes to analyzing and solving the question, she'd faster fall asleep... she just can't be _that logical. _It would only lead to facing problems and knowing her conscience and eventually snoring.

That doesn't stop her from knowing that it _is _weird. She just doesn't have to admit it.

The car eventually stops in the driveway of a small home.

Bella takes her time outside as Charlie rushes into the house, her two baggages on either arm.

"You're getting wet!" he calls in. After a moment of impatiently hovering in the doorway, he concedes. "All right," he mutters. "Take your shoes off when you get in. I'll find some towels."

Bella produces an umbrella. She's practical in a way that can't be defined: a strange combination of pushing too hard and giving too little, looking after herself, but not really minding at all. Her mother always knew exactly when to stumble and ask, always in the presence of someone disposed to catch her and answer; Charlie was always there, blithely willing. Bella finds that sometimes, she just wants somebody to tell her what to do. She can't figure it out herself, anyway.

A/N: I know the installment is very short, but I figured I'd rather have fast, short updates than long ones that take months. Anyway, this is my version of how Twilight #1 should have happened. I'm not differing from the main story; rather, I'm trying to make the writing not stale, and have Bella develop something like a personality :). I can't be the ONLY one who wants something good after the disaster that was Breaking Dawn, right?


End file.
